Olga's Funeral
by pixiecc
Summary: Olga's death causes Helga to experience emotions she has kept locked away for years. In her sister's death she finally is able to forgive those who have hurt her. Rated PG~13 for language and adult situations
1. Prologue

Prologue  
  
The morning started like any other. The sun was shinning in a cloudless sky and the birds were chirping their morning music. Helga rolled over in bed, her eyes searching for the bright neon red numbers of her digital clock. 11:00 was the time she read.   
"Damitt!" she shouted.  
Across the room a girl sat at her vanity mirror applying some lipsticks. At the sound of her roommate's voice she shot Helga a glance and smiled.  
"What seems to be the problem THIS time?" she said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.  
"Crimeny ... why did I drink so much at that sorority party last night? That was so out of character for me."  
"Well, I'd say that it's your new boyfriend being a bad influence." The girl stated without a second thought.  
Helga stuck out her tongue at her roommate in a child like manner, "Just say whatever comes to mind, don't you, Daria?"  
"That's me!" Daria replied with a toss of her long brown hair.   
Then as if remembering herself Daria picked up an envelope from her desk. "This came in our mailbox yesterday, it says Helga Gerladine Pataki on it, so I assume it's for you."  
Helga rolled her eyes and crept out of her bed. Her legs were a bit wobbly and to steady herself she held onto the bed post.  
"Here." Daria tossed the letter to Helga and then left their dorm room.  
The hungover girl scanned the handwriting on the envelope. "A letter from Bob? That's odd." she said to no one in particular and tore at the top to pull the out the letter from inside.  
  
Helga,  
  
I have some bad news. Your sister Olga was killed yesterday while driving home. She was hit by a drunk driver and didn't survive. Her funeral will be next week, on the 17th.  
  
Helga looked at her calendar. It was the 16th.  
  
"Thanks for the notice, Bob," Helga muttered bitterly. She crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the wastebasket beside her.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Daria entered her dorm room to find Helga sitting up in bed, wearing her pink pajama's from the night before and watching 'Arthur'. It was 4 in the afternoon. Something must be up, Daria thought.  
"Didn't go to class today, huh?" she sat down on her roommate's bed. Helga hugged her legs up to her chest and let out a long sigh.  
"That bad?"  
"You have no idea." Helga said without taking her eyes of Arthur and his gang.  
Daria reached for the remote and turned the television off.  
"Wanna talk about it?"  
Helga didn't reply, but instead walked over to the vanity mirror and looked at herself. She studied her reflection and moaned. She was a mess. With frustration built up inside, Helga let out a long sigh.  
"I was never that good looking was I, Daria?"  
Walking up besides the distraught girl, Daria smiled, "Since when have you become so superficial?"  
Helga picked up a brush and began de-tangling her blond hair, "Since my perfect looking and much better at everything sister died."  
Daria's mouth dropped, "You have a sister?"  
"Had ... her funeral is tomorrow and I'm leaving tonight on a plane and be there." Helga said non nonchalantly.  
"You never told me about a sister."   
Helga raised her arms exasperated and began to rant. Daria was used to this it was what made Helga ... Helga.  
"Well, maybe that's because she is absolutely everything I have ever hated in the world. Ever since I was little it was always 'Olga is so great ... why can't Helga be more like Olga?' and now I have to go and pay my respects for a sister I never acknowledged as my own. I have to see my parents who couldn't even call to tell me Olga died, but had to write me a freaking letter. How pathetic!"   
Daria's lips parted as if to say something, but then thought otherwise. She glanced at the waste basket and saw the letter that Helga spoke of and pulled it out. "Maybe you should read this letter again, before you say anything else. I'm sure there is something in there that you missed."  
Daria's roommate gave her a disgruntled look and groaned. She took the crumpled letter from her friend's hand and scanned it once more.  
"Oh looks like I did miss something! They bought me an e-ticket and the plane leaves in 3 hours." Helga gasped.  
Unfazed, Daria half smiled, "Well, let's get packing." 


	2. 1

I looked out of the airplane window I sat next to and saw Daria. She stood in front of one of the airport's large glass windows, waving her hand with a crooked smile on her face. She mouthed something to me. I wasn't quite sure what she had meant to communicate, so I waved in return. The faithful friend she was, driving me to the airport had not been enough. The girl wasn't going to leave until I was long gone in the sky.  
I had met Daria my freshman year in college. We were both paired as roommates. My first impression when I saw her pale skin, dark long hair, and black combat boots was to run the other way. There had to be some mistake. There was no way I was going to room with a reject from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer.' Yet, despite her gothic features, Daria was very much down to earth and the most caring person I would probably ever meet. A psychology major, Daria had once told me, "Helga, helping you deal with the pain of your childhood is my mission for the next 4 years."  
I was her guinea pig, so to speak.  
Now I would face one of the most challenging episodes of my life and to Daria this was a stepping stone for me, a chance to face my demons head on. Only, I did not feel the same. I did not want to see my demons or my parents for that matter. It would be my first time home in over two years.  
There had never seemed to be any reason for me to go home until now. A lot of college students went at least to a relatives during the holidays. Not me. I was the girl who stayed in her dorm room eating a Swanson's Turkey Dinner for Thanksgiving and having a tiny cardboard cutout for a Christmas tree. Why would I want to go back to the place I grew up? A place that held so much undealt with pain for me. Besides, when had they ever noticed if I was home or not. A warbled call from your mother Christmas Day is not what I consider an act of recognition.  
I sighed.  
It almost seemed as if none of this was really happening. No. I was actually looking through the eyes of a dream and soon I was going to wake up in my bed and never again have to think about what her death meant.   
Olga's death.  
How were my parents going to deal with their precious goody goody daughter being gone and having only the second runner up left? Not that they cared anyway. Did they ever care?  
"Welcome aboard flight 108 nonstop to Hillwood." A soft female voice greeted the passengers over the intercom.  
I looked out the window once more and stared at Daria. She had not moved.   
"Wish me luck." I said to her, knowing there was no possible way she heard me.   
I sighed once more.   
Just then an older looking man took his seat next to me. I watched him maneuver his skinny elderly body into the chair. Suddenly the cain he had been using slipped from his grasp and knocked me in the knee. It wouldn't have been so bad had the cain missed my funny bone, but of course, it had not. I stifled a cry.  
"I'm sorry." The man said as he retrieved his cain.  
I shrugged my shoulders at the same time rubbing my knee.  
"My name is Rufus." The man offered his hand.  
"Olga"   
I have no idea why I used my sister's name, but once the word was out of my mouth I couldn't retract it.  
"So, Olga, what brings you here today?"  
I felt like he was going out of his way to invade my personal space. I kept my answer as short as possible.  
"I'm going home to visit family."  
"Ahh ... how long has it been?"  
"Two years." I said, hoping beyond hope that he would leave the conversation at that.  
"Long time for a girl your age." He commented more to himself than to me.  
I shrugged and he said nothing more on the subject.  
Since he had nothing more to say, I knew this, because he had already started another conversation with the woman sitting to his right, I put on my ear phones and pressed the play on the CD player I cradled in my lap. The music was a welcome comfort, creating a momentary peace for me. A peace that was able to let me forget the troubles that had been plaguing me since I received that damned letter earlier in the day.  
The words of Daria echoed in my mind.  
"Keep it together, Helga. This will probably be one of the most important and hardest thing you will have to do."   
"I can do this!" I muttered under my breath and quickly added, "Crimey, quit talking to yourself!"  
I heard some mumbling to my right and turning my head I saw that the old man had fastened his attention back on me. Oh brother!  
I pulled off my head phones.  
"Why does your shirt stick out in the front?" Rufus asked.  
What an impertinent inquiry. Damn, this guy was getting on my nerves.  
"Is that a necklace? Why wear it under your shirt. Is it ugly?"  
I pulled out my locket. A locket I had never shown to anyone before. I would have liked to have kept it that way, but what could I tell him? I had a bone sticking out of my chest?  
"Ohhh ... who's the boy? Your sweetheart?" he asked as he examined the picture inside the heart shaped necklace.  
I jerked the locket from his fingers. I couldn't contain my irritation at his incredulous actions. Who was he to inquire about one of the most secretive things I owned. Of course, he had no idea that he was delving into the depths of my soul, but that still didn't stop me from what I said next.  
"Look old mean. I'd rather you not ask so many personal questions. Got it?!"  
Rufus seemed a bit taken aback at first, but then only smiled, "Whatever you say, Helga."  
I was stunned. How did he know my real name?"  
"Why did you just call me Helga?"  
"Did I? Oh, I'm sorry I guess I got confused. Olga, Helga, they all sound the same."  
I didn't buy his answer, but I said nothing more. The locket went back into my shirt.  
I closed my eyes then and placing the head phones over my ears I let Mozart lead me into sleep.  
  
  
It seemed I had just closed my eyes when I was awakened by someone tugging at my arm. My eyes flew open and I jumped at the sight of Rufus staring me in the face. "Time to go, dear." He sweetly said.  
That's when I noticed I was now the only one sitting. Other passengers were standing and pulling their luggage from the overhead compartments. Apparently I had slept through the whole flight or so I was told by the old man. I quickly wiped the drool from the side of my mouth and joined the other people standing on their feet.  
Damn ... I had had no time to prepare myself for this. In just a few short minutes I would have to face, Bob and Miriam.  
"By the way ... I'm Phil." I turned about and saw Rufus standing directly behind me in line.  
I raised my eyebrows, "I thought you said your name was Rufus."  
"Rufus," he laughed, "why would I say that?"  
Crimeny ... this man was a nut job!  
"I don't know, old man, you're the one who told me that."  
"No ... no ... I'm Phil and you're Helga."  
I smacked my forehead, "Good-bye, Phil."  
I hurrily exited the plane, hoping that I had seen the last of Rufus/Phil.  
Once I was outside the airplane, people passed by me in a rush. Probably eager to see someone waiting for them at the other end. Wish I could say the same. I paced my walking, all the while thinking about what I was going to say when I saw my parents. Images of a gruff looking man and his loopy alcoholic wife flooded my mind. I bit my lower lip.   
Finally there was no more walkway in front of me. My next step would bring me face to face with what I was dreading.   
"Be strong, Helga."  
I took a step into the airport, bracing myself for the worst.  
Through the sea of people I thought I saw Miriam, but as I got closer I realized it wasn't my mother at all, so I just stood there. Waiting.  
After 10 minutes of standing with a heavy shoulder bag I decided it was best if I sat. I dropped my bag and slumped into a nearby chair.  
Typical.   
So like them to forget that their second daughter was in town. I knew I was jumping to conclusions, but honestly what other reason made sense considering Bob and Miriam. Mom got drunk and fell asleep on the couch while my dad sat glued to the TV. A mirror image of what my childhood had been like.  
I covered my face with my hands and moaned.  
"Excuse me, Miss." Someone was tapping me on the shoulder.  
I looked up and saw Phil standing above me.   
"Olga? Is that you?" His voice raised a little in excitement.  
"What is it?" I grumbled.  
"Well, I see you're just sitting here and I was wondering if you needed a ride. My grandson is coming to pick me up and we could save you money on a taxi."  
His offer didn't sound half bad.   
"Okay." I said, "but, no more questions."  
"Done deal!" Phil stated and we walked off together. 


	3. 2

I began my first obsession at a young age.  
Of course, being a girl, my obsession was a boy. But, my preoccupation with this boy was not purely based on lust. I was only a child of three when I first met him and I was too young to understand the attraction, we as humans, experience to the opposite sex. Instead my longing for this boy stemmed from the attention he gave me. He was the first person who acknowledged me. The first person to call me by my name and not 'Olga' or 'Hey You' as my Dad so often referred to me as.  
This boy is whose picture I held so close to my heart inside a locket years after I had last seen him. A picture to remind me that to him I was more than just the second daughter ... I was Helga.  
Now had I not been so consumed with my own self loathing, I might have fit the pieces of the puzzle together sooner than later.   
His grandson picking him up at the airport ... that creepy old man vibe. How could I have not recognized Phil? But, my realization came all too late. Too late to run away, before I came face to face with someone I was not prepared to come face to face with.  
I did not see him right away, Phil walked slightly ahead of me and blocked my view. I had not even recognized the deep voice I heard calling, "Grandpa!"  
It was when I saw those two piercing blue eyes that my heart stopped and I knew who this old man was and I definitely knew who his grandson was.  
"Arnold!" A voice inside me sighed.  
In that brief moment I was nine years old all over again and the feelings, I had so long kept hidden inside, pulsed through my veins once more. I needed him much like a plant needs water. I needed him as strongly as I had the day he said good-bye to everyone in Hillwood.  
He left when we were both fifteen to go and live with his parent's in some other country. I was just at the peak of my puberty, ready and waiting to express years of pent up longing and he left. I cried for months and my parents in a rare act of concern took me to a child psychologist to help me deal with my depression. "A daily dose of Zoloft will help your daughter." The seemingly educated man had told my parents.  
Only it didn't. The event broke my young heart and ever since then the organ has never been the same. There was no drug to cure the chemical imbalance I supposedly had.   
Eventually I had pulled myself out of the hole, by pretending nothing was the matter. A smile for this person here and a nod to this person there gave the appearance that I was doing fine. Only I knew how I really felt. Dead. This was the reason Daria liked to study me so much. She wanted to bring me back to life.  
As Arnold, held his Grandpa in an embrace not one detail escaped my eye. I noted that his blonde hair that had usually been cut short as a child was no grown out to the length of his shoulders. He wore a blue flannel with ratty jeans and looked much like he was a musician from Seattle during the early 90s grunge movement. Then there was his hat. The hat that never left his head. Worn from the years of use, there atop his head was that raggedy old blue hat.  
Never had he looked more handsome.  
I tugged nervously at my hair, debating if I should run away while I still had the chance. He had not noticed me by Phil's side and now with Phil's back to me in his grandson's warm hug, I saw my window of opportunity.  
"Helga?"  
Oh shit! He saw me.  
Desperately I yearned for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.   
I couldn't deal with so many emotions inside me all at once. First Olga ... now this! Crimeny!  
I met his eyes and despite myself, smiled.  
How in the hell had he recognized me? It had been nearly five years since I had last seen him. Although I had recognized his football head instantly.  
Phil turned his head to look at me also, "That's not Helga, her name is Olga. I told her we would give her a ride from the airport."  
"No, that's all right ... I ... um, can find my own ride." I said without a second thought.  
"Don't be silly, we'll give you a ride, Helga." Arnold was now walking towards me. I instinctively took a step back.   
I can't really recall what happened next. All I remember is the world disappearing and darkness taking it's presence over my surroundings.  
In other words ... I fainted. 


End file.
